


Learn the Rules (before you break them)

by wincestplease



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic!Wincest, M/M, and he loves it okay, sam x fluffy puppy dogs, sammy gets a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:37:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincestplease/pseuds/wincestplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domestic fluff. Basically, Dean gets Sam a dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learn the Rules (before you break them)

 

 

The rules really _were_ simple. There were only two of them, after all.

You don’t take a joint from a guy named Don, and no dogs in the car.

See, the rules had been easy enough to follow, up until this point. People named Don have never been trust worthy in Dean’s eyes anyway, and they were never in one place long enough to have a pet of any sort—it was just unrealistic.

Only, now, they’ve taken up permanent residence in the bunker, and they were getting more and more domesticated with each passing day. It hit Dean hard sometimes, and he’d puff his chest out with pride, at the life he and Sam have built.

Dean would wake up in the morning holding Sam like he was scared Sam was going to try to escape him in the middle of the night, with a mouthful of his stupidly long hair, and their legs tangled together, clad in nothing but the limbs of the other.

Sam was always the first to get out of bed—he’s a morning person, even after they don’t have to wake up early anymore—and go for a jog in the woods surrounding the bunker. Dean used to worry about this habit, so much so that he even begrudgingly got up with Sam one day to go with him, while secretly scanning for any signs of danger. He’d found non, but he still made Sam promise to take the demon knife with him, because, _just in case, Sammy. After all this, I ain’t loosing you to some fucking no name demon._

When he got back and headed for the shower, Dean would groggily be making a coffee with fumbled movements, and Sam would always giggle at how grumpy Dean is, and peck him on the cheek as he B lined for the shower. Dean is anything _but_ a morning person.

When Sam re-emerged clean and smelling like their shampoo, they’d make breakfast together, and then tackle the plans they had for the day—which, truthfully, were getting downright pathetic. Dean loved it.

They hardly hunted anymore—maybe the odd poltergeist here, a demon there. Nothing major. Just a little something to keep them in shape should something terrible happen.

And it felt good not to have the weight of the world on your shoulders.

It felt really good.

So whatever, Dean was breaking the rules, and he had a big black Newfoundland dog riding shotgun, Sam’s usual spot, his huge tongue lolling out and flapping in the wind, as his tail waved happily. He’d thought about getting a lapdog half to tease Sam about it, but Sam’s always liked big dogs, and besides, this breed is insanely fluffy and cuddly.

And this is a gift for _Sam,_ which, hello. Sam loves cuddling. Dean knows that firsthand.

He’d rescued the 11 month old Lance from the shelter a few towns over, after his owner had said that they didn’t have the room to house the big guy anymore, and left under the pretence that he was going to check out the motorcycle store of said town. Sam believed him easily enough. He did think it’d be cool to have a motorbike, but for now, his baby was all he needed.

He pats the steering wheel lovingly. Old faithful.

When he pulls outside the bunker doors, he circles around to the other side and grabs Lance’s leash, tugging him along in through the bunker doors.

“Sammy.” Dean calls in a singsong voice, grinning like an idiot because he is imagining the look on Sam’s face when he sees Lance, and he can’t _wait._

“Living room.” Sam answers, voice distant.

Dean glances down at Lance wickedly, and unhooks his leash, and before he can say anything to the dog, Lance is taking off down the hallway in a full out run, his long legs slipping and sliding as he makes a sharp turn towards where he must smell Sam, and when Dean catches up, he sees his baby brother pinned beneath a heaping mound of fluffy black dog.

Mission accomplished.

“Dean, what--”  Sam tries, but when he opens his mouth, Lance licks a wet line from his chin to his hairline in greeting, and even beneath all the black fur, Dean can see the dimples carving out deep caverns in Sam’s cheeks.

“Ew,” Dean remarks smugly, still smiling ear to ear. “You are washing your face before I kiss you. Twice.”

“I don’t--”

“He’s all yours.” Dean informs Sam smugly. “Figured that…I don’t know. Maybe if we figure this out, if we can take care of him…we might be able to not screw up kids.” He scratches behind his neck, a little shy.

They’ve talked about kids a few times, but they were always scared that the way John raised them would influence the way they raised their own children.

Lance was their child for now, albeit a hairy one, and he could already see them spoiling him endlessly.

Sam grins and hugs Lance tight, scratching affectionately behind his ears, before pushing the dog off gently so Sam could get back to his feet, and then suddenly, he’s lunging at Dean, and now Dean is the one getting all Sam’s love and…yeah. He’s okay with this. More than okay with this.

Except the dog totally just licked Sam’s face, and Sam is trying to kiss him.

“Dude, _ew.”_ Dean complains, both his hands pushing at Sam’s cheeks as Sam makes kissy noises at him, trying to land a kiss on Dean’s lips. “I said wash your face!”

“C’mon, Dean, kiss me,” Sam pleads with an evil laugh. “You know you want to.”

Lance decides that he definitely wants in on all this fun, so he trots over, and while Dean is distracted with holding Sam at bay, Lance licks a wet line over Dean’s face too, and Dean groans in protest. “Gross.” He whimpers.

As if Lance is laughing, he barks cheerily at him, wagging his tail.

“Well, since he licked you too…” Sam trails off.

Dean sighs, letting his hands fall from his face in defeat, and Sam makes a happy noise and kisses him, hard.

“You’re the best.” Sam whispers.

“Yeah, well.” Dean blushes, the tips of his ears turning red. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Sam rolls his eyes, and rests their foreheads together. “Whatever you say.”  He grins.

“Bitch.” Dean grumps.

Sam smiles, dimpling so wide Dean can’t help but stick a finger in one of them, which makes Sam laugh, batting his hand away. “Jerk,” He whispers.

And maybe the word is an insult, but call Dean crazy, it sounded like _I love you._


End file.
